Chapter One: The Little Things
Normally, Mary Wardwell had an excellent memory. A precise, photographic memory that never failed her. It was how she earned straight A's in school, breezed through her undergrad classes and achieved a Master's degree in half the usual time. She prided herself on being able to retain names, dates, locations and fine details on any number of subjects. One of her very favorite things in the world was learning new facts and then sharing her knowledge. That was why she became a teacher and easily memorized her students' files by the first day of class each year. Mary hadn't gotten so much as a single student's name incorrect in all her 20 years of teaching.
So why was her memory suddenly a vast, aching void?
She had no recollection of how she arrived at the diner. When did she leave the movie theater? What time was it? Was it still Sunday? Where had she even slept before waking to find herself just outside the diner?
The all-consuming uncertainty sent chills down her spine.
"Hey, Ms. Wardwell," Sabrina's kind voice carried from a few booths away. "Are you okay?"
Mary hoped her shiver wasn't as obvious as it felt. "Y-yes, I think so."
"Are you sure?" Roz Walker asked.
On a good day, Mary would have been touched by their concern. Instead it only made her feel even more on edge.
"Yes," She smiled thinly. "I think I'm just a little under the weather. I should probably head home."
Mary hastily reached into her purse only to find her wallet missing. "That's...strange."
"What's wrong?" Sabrina stood up and made her way over to Mary's booth.
"I seem to have left my wallet behind," Mary sounded more dazed than she would have liked in front of a student.
"We can cover the bill for you," Sabrina grabbed the check off the table before Ms. Wardwell could protest in time to stop her.
"Oh, Sabrina, I couldn't possibly let you…"
"It's no problem," The teen said confidently.
"I appreciate the offer, but I can't let a student…"
"Really, Ms. Wardwell, it's okay," Sabrina interjected yet again. "It's the least I could do."
If Mary hadn't been so overwhelmed, she might have questioned that statement. Desperate as she was to escape prying eyes, she simply acquiesced. "Well, that's very kind of you, Sabrina. Thank you."
Mary rose quickly from the booth and turned to Sabrina's friends. "Have a lovely evening, everyone. I'll see you in class tomorrow."
All four teenagers shared a peculiar look between them. Mary felt her stomach drop. Though her students were being entirely polite, she couldn't help the sense of dread that came over her. It was as though they somehow saw right through her, as if she were as transparent as a ghost.
Why are they looking at me like that? She wondered. Do they know something I don't?
Stop being ridiculous. Mary tamped off her muddled thoughts. They're your students. Still children in their own way. They are probably just annoyed that you reminded them about school in the morning.
"Good night, Ms. Wardwell," Sabrina smiled warmly.
"Bye, guys," Mary waved and all but darted out of the diner.
The cool air outside helped center her a little. A few deep breaths had her feeling almost normal again. For some reason, the air lacked the tinge of fall that Mary expected. The sharp, earthy scent was missing entirely. Everything smelled fresher, more light and gentle. More like early spring that mid Fall.
Mary sighed. She was being ridiculous again. Her dream must have affected her more profoundly than she even realized. Now she was doubting the seasons as well as her own mind.
Drawing her coat more tightly around herself, Mary walked down the sidewalk toward the parking lot. Despite not at all remembering her drive into town that night, she found her car parked in the usual area.
There, see? She told herself. Everything is as it should be.
The keys were in her pocket as expected and the engine purred to life just like it always did.
A few minutes into her trip, Mary cranked up the sound on the radio. The drive home wasn't overly long, but she did enjoy singing along during the ride.
"...Don't go 'round tonight. It's bound to take your life. There's a bad moon on the rise..."
A jolt of pure, white-hot fear assaulted Mary's senses. She slammed on the breaks, her eyes scanning the surrounding woods in terror. Her chest heaved, her lungs unable to catch up with her uneven breaths. Mary's fingers gripped the steering wheel so tightly that her knuckles were white. Her entire body trembled from head to toe. She was utterly and completely paralyzed.
Time passed. Minutes, maybe hours, Mary had no idea. But eventually the song changed. And again. And again. Until advertisements for local businesses interrupted the music. Slowly, Mary's grip loosened on the steering wheel. Her breathing became more regulated. She could finally feel the endless stream of tears flowing down her cheeks.
Mary closed her eyes tightly. I just have to get to the cottage. Everything will be alright if I just get home.
She carefully adjusted her grip on the steering wheel, took a deep breath and put the car back in drive.
She made sure the radio stayed off for the rest of the journey.
Mary never thought of herself as being a predictable person. She understood why others might see her as such, but it wasn't entirely true. Mary thrived on organization and routine, but that didn't mean she never looked forward to a little adventure. A little spontaneity. A little danger.
Why else would she love horror films so much? Horror was exciting, unexpected and suspenseful. Zombies were slaughtered, demons banished and ghosts exorcised in thrilling ways. It was a vicarious experience, a momentary escape from the true, indomitable horrors in everyday life.
Especially in Greendale. Their little town held more secrets and demons than most people realized. But Mary Wardwell knew. History had told her more disturbing things about Greendale and its residents than anyone could imagine. That was partly why she never felt the desire to leave. Mary still had so much to learn about the town she knew and loved. There was a mystery here, a puzzle that had enthralled her since she was a girl.
Tonight was different. Very, very, different. For the first time in her life, Mary wished she had grown up somewhere else.
Tonight, Mary felt like a stranger in her own cottage. The thought should be preposterous, as she lived alone and rarely had visitors. Indeed, the house had been willed to her by her father after his death decades ago. She had been the only resident ever since.
Why does everything look out of place? Mary's mind screamed.
If her entire house had been upended with furniture overturned, glass broken and paintings askew, Mary could chalk up the entire experience to a break-in. An unfortunate robbery. Her cottage was isolated, after all, and it would make a perfect target for thieves.
No, nothing of the sort had happened while Mary was gone. Something far more sinister was going on. Mary could feel it in her bones. It was the little things that terrified her the most.
My knitting basket is missing.
The lampshade by my desk is crooked.
The rug has two small, dark stains that weren't there before.
There's an indent in the carpet where my armchair should sit.
My favorite tea set is out on the coffee table. The lipstick shade on the rim of the teacup is not a color I've ever worn.
Mary stood in her living room, her coat still clasped in her hands like a security blanket. She was too afraid to venture further into her own home. Too many things were different, too many things were all wrong from how she remembered them.
One thing became startlingly clear.
A stranger has been inside my home.
Mary shivered with the certainty of it.
And maybe...they're still here.
The thought spurred her into action. She would not be a victim to this intruder's plot. Mary dropped her coat, grabbed a fireplace poker from the mantle and slowly made her way deeper into the cottage.
"Is anyone here?" She called. "Come out now! I know you're here."
Silence.
"If this is a senior prank, it isn't funny," Mary hedged, hoping against hope that she was just the target of a wayward student's joke. "You will be expelled for this."
The cottage remained quiet.
Mary tiptoed into the kitchen, flicking the lights on as she went. It was empty, but a foul smell assaulted her nose.
Curiously, she followed the smell to the refrigerator. With the fireplace poker held aloft, she threw open the door.
Moldy, rotten produce tumbled out of the fridge and onto the floor. The pulverized remains of an onion and two tomatoes sat at her feet.
Mary wrinkled her nose in disgust. Surely she hadn't forgotten to go to the store in so long? She quickly disposed of the fetid vegetables and continued her search of the cottage.
Her bedroom appeared undisturbed, but a closer look stoked Mary's fears. A perfume atomizer sat on the nightstand instead of on her dressing table. Books that belonged in the study were strewn about the floor in piles. And the window was thrown open, the breeze lifting the curtains gently.
Fireplace poker still in hand, Mary slammed the window shut and locked it tight. She turned her attention to the closet.
"If someone is in there, you had better come out now," Mary yelled, proud that her voice had not betrayed her terror.
She threw open the closet door to find no one inside. What she did find was even more disconcerting.
Her wardrobe was gone.
The expected cozy sweaters, modest skirts and conservative dresses were all missing. Instead, her closet was an explosion of color and texture. Dresses with vibrant patterns, shiny metallics and daring necklines covered an entire wall. Her shoe rack was filled with expensive high heels that she'd never been confident enough to wear. Silky tops and slinky skirts replaced her collection of trusty button-ups and pressed slacks. A green silk robe hung on the back of the door, a v-neck so low that she nearly blushed at the thought of wearing such a thing.
Mary Wardwell could take no more.
The fireplace poker clattered to the floor as Mary collapsed to her knees. She tossed her glasses across the room and covered her face with her hands. Deep, aching sobs scraped her throat as she cried.
"What's happening?" She screamed through tears. "What's happening to me?!"
Confused, frightened and unsure what to do next, Mary wept on the floor of her closet until exhaustion lulled her to sleep.